| Author(s) | Friedrich Engels |
|---|---|
| Written | 19 January 1895 |
ENGELS TO LAURA LAFARGUE
AT LE PERREUX
London, 19 January 1895
41 Regent's Park Road N. W.
My dear Löhr,
Your last letter has indeed startled me.[1] I have tried, not very successfully, to recollect the terms used in my letter to you of December 29th[2] ; still, in what I do remember there is not a word which ought to offend you. And indeed, if there is anything in the tone of that letter which you think strange, it is there entirely against my will and intention.
It never could occur, nor has it ever occurred to me for a moment to doubt the right or the propriety, on your part, of inquiring at any time what steps I had taken or intended to take in order to secure the return, at the time of my death, to you, the rightful owners, of those papers of Mohr's which you have entrusted to me. Nor have I ever found anything to object to in the terms in which you spoke of that subject to Tussy. It seems, therefore, so exceedingly strange to me that I should have written to you in a tone that ought to give you reason to complain.
I did indeed feel nettled at the way Tussy caused the question to be submitted to me, and, under the circumstances, thought I was bound to speak to her about it. When I did, I told her, not once, but three or four times over, that I had not one word to say against your letter, neither as to the subject matter, nor as to the terms used. Anyhow, Tussy and I had an explanation, which as far as I know, settled everything connected with that subject, and left us as good friends as before; and I should regret very much if, through any unguarded words of mine, or through some other circumstance, that little incident had thrown its shadow as far as Le Perreux.
In the meantime things have come to a crisis in your neighbourhood. I intended to write at some length about that, but Bebel all at once asked me for historical materials as to the various and pretty frequent riots here in England which are settled without ever attempting to encumber the Statute Book with increased penal laws or exceptional legislation. He is in the Committee on the Umsturzvorlage[3] and wants it for them, so I had to leave everything else alone and get it off by this day's post before the usual Sunday delays in postal communication retard it.
Anyhow our 50 French Socialist members are in luck. In less than 18 months they have upset three ministries and one president.[4] That shows what a Socialist minority can do in a parliament which, like the French or English, is the really supreme power in the country. A similar power our men in Germany can get by a revolution only; still, the break-up of the Centre party[5] would make them the arbiters of the house and give them the balance of power.
What a miserable retreat is that of Casimir's[6] ! After the brag with which he came in, to skedaddle at the first serious difficulty![7] It looks as if our bourgeois heroes had individually degenerated quite as much as their class has done collectively.
In Germany it looks as if the same principle was prevailing; Bebel does not seem to think von Köller and Co. the men likely to carry through a coup d'état to the end; it seems everywhere the story of Béranger's old fool who courted Babette and found out too late that his courting days were past and gone.[8]
The greatest success, however, seems to me to be this, that the scandalous affairs of the opportunist majority have been again exposed, that Raynal has been nailed down, and that it seems impossible to have the subject burked again.[9] The evidence of the corruption of all other parties must work wonders in favour of ours, especially in France, and ought to secure us immense and unhoped for successes at the next general election which cannot be very distant now, for who can govern with the present Chamber?
Ça chauffe![10] and neither Félix Faure nor young William[11] will be able to put out the fire.
I shall write to Paul as soon as ever I get a moment's time. Thanks for the papers which I have sent on to Tussy after using them.
Ever yours,
F. Engels